


Again, Later

by tanyart



Series: cest la vie [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Future Jean/Future Eren/Jean, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean finds his future self and future Eren in the supply closet. (Unofficial pwp sequel to Now or Never.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Again, Later

**Author's Note:**

> The shameless down and dirty version because I have no dignity left to spare.

Jean still has the gross taste of coffee in his mouth when he runs into Kirschtein and older Eren sneaking around the barracks again.  And by sneaking, he means hiding in one of the supply rooms doing nothing even remotely exciting.  They aren’t even arguing or kissing, which Jean has been thinking a lot about lately, no thanks to Kirschtein and _definitely_ no thanks to the Eren.  Both present _and_ future Erens, in fact.

“Weren't you two going to leave?” Jean asks, broom in hand; he had offered to put it away after present-day Eren had swept the courtyard and had gotten a confused thanks out of it, so there is that.

“We are,” Kirschtein says mulishly.  The space is his sitting in is cramped enough without having _not-present-day-and-unfairly-attractive_ Eren squeezed next to him.

Jean stamps down his jealousy.  This could be him someday.  Alone in a tiny supply room with Eren, and apparently inept in all things space and time related.  He wishes he is being sarcastic about it, but _he really can’t wait_.

“We just need to lie low for the night,” Eren explains and looks so put off by it Jean gets the stupid childish urge to impress this nineteen year-old Eren and help out.

So he does.  He gathers his nerve to hold out his hand to help Eren up, even if he knows full well Eren can stand on his own, but Eren is a fucking enabler anyway and only takes his hand without hesitation while Kirschtein looks faintly embarrassed by the whole thing.

Jean scowls, cheeks heating up.  Whatever.  Eren is still holding onto Jean’s hand when he turns and grabs Kirschtein’s wrist to pull him up as well.  For a moment it leaves all three of them standing together with their hands joined, and Jean can’t believe how the two of them are so oblivious about it.  He quickly lets go of Eren’s hand, huffing a little, and stomps off towards the infirmary.

“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder and discreetly rubs his sweaty palms against the inside of his cuffs.

* * *

The infirmary has a few private rooms hardly anyone uses.  Jean thinks they might be for isolation purposes, or whenever Squad Leader Hanji needs the extra space for research… things.  He wonders why Kirschtein or Eren don’t appear to remember these rooms but as they step in Eren mutters something under his breath, making Kirschtein snort and kick the door shut before he tackles Eren onto the cot.

Eren stumbles, blindly reaching out to grab anything in reach, and yanks Jean off his feet by the arm.  Before Jean knows it, all three of them are on the cot and Jean has to scramble aside as Eren’s fist narrowly misses decking him in the eye.

“ _This_ room again,” Eren gasps, grappling with Kirschtein.  He rolls on his back, planting one boot on Kirschtein’s chest, but he is more or less pinned down and doesn’t look like he minds at all.  “S’lot cleaner than I remember it being.”

Kirschtein raises an eyebrow, pushing down as Eren’s supporting leg bends under his weight.  He considers Eren for what is longer than necessary.  “…Really now.”

Meanwhile Jean huddles in the corner of the bed with his back against the headboard for what feels like an awkward long time.

“Aren’t the both of you too old to pick fights with each other?” he says in a desperate attempt to make them stop flirting or fighting—he’s not sure what is happening.

He draws his legs up as the back of Eren’s head presses over his shins, disheveled dark hair nearly coming undone from its tie, and Jean spends another long awkward moment meeting Eren’s bright-eyed stare and crooked smile.

“Never,” says Eren, looking at Jean from his upside-down point of view.  He kicks Kirschtein off with little mercy and sits up to face Jean, leaning close and grinning in unrepentant victory.  “Can’t you see you _still_ lose at hand-to-hand?  Even when it’s two against one.”

He laughs, a muted sound as he regains his breath, and eases away from Jean.  His face is flushed, clothes all rumpled and hair a complete mess.  Jean’s mouth goes dry and a little thrill travels up his spine.

“Who’s losing?” Kirschtein demands, climbing back onto the cot.  He wraps his arms around Eren from behind, trapping him in a hold Jean knows for sure wouldn’t stand a chance in any real fight. Kirschtein’s eyes shift to Jean, holding his gaze as he lowers his head and puts his mouth to the curve of Eren’s neck.  “ _Us?_ ” he says.

Eren tilts his head as if he’s daring Kirschtein to do his worst, and smirks at Jean like he’s challenging him to do his best.  “Sure looks like it.”   

Jean sits up and scowls.  Taunting—he _knows_ that.  It’s familiar and comforting, not something so wildly out of his depth.  He lunges forward, grabbing Eren by the front of his shirt.

“I’ll show _you_ losing,” he snaps, which doesn’t make any sense at all, but he is past caring if Eren smiles right into his kiss and if Kirschtein makes a muffled groan of embarrassment against Eren’s shoulder. It feels good, being able to finally move out of sheer frustration.  He is so fucking _done_ with being paralyzed and flustered by two adults who aren’t even the least bit cool or charming—he can’t _believe_ neither of them have manage to mature one bit over four years.

Eren’s mouth is warm and open, letting Jean’s tongue slide in between his lips.  It’s sloppy and wet, licking around Eren’s tongue, and Jean can’t help but feel clumsy as a trail of saliva escapes from the corner of his mouth, but Eren’s hands go up to his face, gently steadying him from angling his head too much, and he doesn’t stop kissing Jean until they pause for breath.

And, amazingly, after they do, Eren leans in for more, no less eager to do it again.

Jean starts to think he is finally getting the hang of kissing when Eren suddenly jerks and moans into his mouth.  The sound startles Jean and sends a jolt running down to the pit of his stomach.  He opens his eyes and sees Kirschtein worming his hands into Eren’s pants and that too makes Jean blood run hot.

“C’mon,” Kirschtein murmurs to Jean, nosing Eren’s shirt collar.  His hands move beneath the fabric of Eren’s pants, and Eren’s eyes flutter shut.

The sight makes Jean’s pulse pound between his ears, watching Eren arch into Kirschtein and feeling one of Eren’s hands leave his face to grip Kirschtein from behind his shoulder.  He doesn’t know how Eren’s learned to move his body in lazy, languid turns, rolling his hips up every time Kirschtein grips him.

“Fuck,” Jean breathes, already dizzy with the thought, and he reaches out to pull at the buttons of Eren’s shirt, revealing collarbones already lined with red marks.

There _is_ a guide after all, he thinks, and lowers his head to make a few marks of his own.  Eren makes an appreciative noise, somewhere between an encouraging _yes_ and a breathless sigh before Kirschtein hungrily demands a kiss for himself from over Eren’s shoulder.

A little later, when Eren is moaning and pulling Jean closer, Jean lets out a little whimper, hand going to the front of his pants.  He is hard, and thinks he has been hard ever since Eren had first smirked at him with Kirschtein at his neck.  Jean bites his lip, and tries not to grip himself too hard through his pants while he tries to giving Eren a kiss that doesn’t quite make it before he shudders and hides his face beneath Eren’s jaw.

“Ah, did you come?” Eren asks, blunt enough that Jean literally blushes his way out of making a wreck of himself and a mess in his pants.

“No,” he says, stuttering, and he hates himself for somehow being in Eren’s lap and rutting against him, unable to stop due to Eren’s arm wrapping around his waist to encourage it.

Eren snorts, pressing his mouth to the side of his face, and Jean feels the damp strands of Eren’s hair and the thin layer of sweat on his cheek.

“Why didn’t you say anything?  Sorry, sorry, I forgot,” Eren says, pushing Jean unceremoniously onto his back.

“Forgot _what?_ ” The back of Jean’s head bumps against the headboard and he attempts to look angry, but it doesn’t help him at all when Eren nudges Kirschtein back some more and hunkers down between Jean’s drawn up knees.

“Your stamina,” Eren says dismissively, and can’t be bothered to answer Jean’s offended protests.  "Doesn’t matter.  You get better at it," he adds, and bends down to unzip Jean's pants with his teeth.

Jean’s complaints fuck off in a hurry, leaving him breathless as Eren mouths through the rough fabric.  He sees Kirschtein get up from the cot, tossing his shirt aside, and Jean is assured that while he may not have gained a whole lot of muscle over the years, he’s gotten more… solid. Steady.  Less of an awkward beanpole, Jean wants to think, but there are also a few new marks across Kirschtein’s back, and knot of scarring that doesn’t seem like any kind of injury from the 3dmg or a titan.  It takes Jean a moment to realize it’s an old bullet wound, and he stares, confused until Eren urges him to lift his hips to tug his pants down.

“Don’t mind that,” Eren says, and if Jean misses how casual the command falls from Eren’s mouth, it’s only because Eren’s already put his lips over the tip of Jean’s erection.

Jean whimpers, hands clawing at the sheets.  He distantly hears the bed creak as Kirschtein returns, the clink of belts being undone and the metal scrape of a jar opening.  Eren’s hand nudges Jean’s legs further apart and Jean nearly sits up when he finally puts two and two together.

“N-no, I don’t want-“ he blurts out, blushing furiously, and looks from Eren to Kirschtein, uneasy as Eren’s hand stays on his thigh.

“No, not you,” Kirschtein says from behind Eren.  He has a small jar in one hand while the other curves over the slope of Eren’s ass, shiny and slick with oil.  “I didn’t think you’d want to, anyway.”

Eren colors a brilliant shade of pink at his ears, but he clears his throat.  “If you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” says Jean.  He flops back down, heart racing even faster, but for a different reason.  He fights the urge to palm his hard cock again, but he makes the colossal effort to shuck off his boots with the rest of his pants with Kirschtein’s help.  “Oh. That’s fine,” he repeats and gets up on his elbows to watch.

Eren sighs, though that might have been due to Kirschtein pressing his fingers into him.  Jean can’t see exactly what is happening, but it’s not hard to guess when Eren’s breath hitches against Jean’s cock and he rolls his hips back into Kirschtein’s hand.  And, when Jean has half a mind to just moan and jerk himself off, Eren lifts his head and takes Jean into his mouth, throat rumbling as he makes pleased noises over Jean’s cock.

Jean almost falls back, hand flying to his mouth as he whimpers.  Eren’s mouth is wet and warm, tongue working in careless circles that has Jean panting and writhing in moments.  It’s so good, and Eren looks like a mess, sucking him off as he fucks himself on Kirschtein’s fingers.  Jean can tell when Kirschtein changes how he moves his fingers, just from the way Eren’s eyes darken or glaze over and how his moans grow louder and vibrate all around Jean’s dick.  

“… so good, how did you get so good,” Jean babbles, senseless and overwhelmed.  He shuts his eyes, words turning into shaky, incoherent pants.  It’s too much, hearing what Kirschtein does to Eren while he feels every single one of Eren’s shameless, gasping reactions.

He jerks his hips forward, just as Eren pries Jean’s clenched fist from the sheets and moves to the back of his head.  Jean runs his hand through the dark tangles of Eren’s hair, and it’s _perfect_ , so embarrassingly perfect and hot and everything Jean thinks he wants.  

Jean comes into Eren’s mouth, voice stuttering and breaking, and he continues to whimper as Eren moans and drags his tongue against the flat of his stomach, trailing drool and come along Jean's skin.

“ _Jean_ ,” Eren warns, low and gravelly.

Jean lifts his head weakly, mind still in shambles, and belatedly realizes Eren had been talking to Kirschtein.  He had missed a lot, apparently, because Kirschtein is flushed and looking halfway as desperate and wanting as Jean had felt a minute before.

Kirschtein slides behind Eren, and Jean catches a glimpse of his wet and dripping cock before Eren shifts and hangs his head above Jean’s chest, breathing deeply.

Jean wonders how many times they’ve done this, enough times to be so comfortable and yet still get a kind of shaky excitement falling into each other.  It’s a simple fuck, with Eren on his hands and knees, but it looks better than all of Jean’s elaborate fantasies.  Eren starts to rock back and forth in tiny motions like he wants to push Kirschtein’s cock deeper in him, and Jean wishes he could get hard again just so that he could lay there and jerk off to the sounds of Eren moaning and wanting _more_.

“And how… _ah,_ are you holding up?” Eren asks, looking down at Jean.  At a thrust from Kirschtein, he rolls his hips, erection dragging wetly over Jean’s thigh.  He shudders, briefly closing his eyes as Kirschtein bites his shoulder.

“I… I,” Jean croaks, heat rushing to his face.  He draws his shoulders up and put a hand over his face.  He wants it so bad, and it seems like a stupid, silly thing when he’s done and exhausted and near useless. “Um, I want…”

“He wants you to kiss him,” Kirschtein finishes, panting over Eren.  He presses his face to the back of Eren’s neck, letting out a whine as he makes a visible effort to keep still.

Eren’s eyes open.  “Yeah?” he says, dazed but smiling.

Jean nods, wanting to burn that image of Eren looking happily wrecked above him, but Eren is already kneeling down to kiss him, filthy and messy with none of the patience he had shown Jean before.  Jean moans despite himself, pressing his knees at Eren’s sides to hold him there as Kirschtein fucks him and babbles meaningless words into Eren’s ear.

Jean moves his mouth along Eren’s jaw, eyes open to see Eren’s face, but as soon as Eren gasps for breath, he presses his face into the curve of Jean’s neck, moaning a tiny repetition of _ah, ah, ah_ into Jean’s skin.   

“Oh, _fuck_ , fuck,” Kirschtein whimpers, and he shudders over Eren, hips twitching erratically.  He murmurs something, lost to Jean’s ears, but Eren seems to hear it.

Eren’s hands scrabble over the sheets, and Jean reaches up, wanting to run his fingers through his hair again, but Eren takes his hand, fingers lacing tightly with Jean’s.

“ _Jean_ ,” Eren gasps, face still buried against his neck, and he comes, thick over Jean’s stomach.  He shivers, but doesn’t let go of Jean’s hand for the longest time, not until Kirschtein slides out of him and Eren turns his head to nuzzle him and slur out his praises.

“I… can’t breathe,” Jean says a little while later.

“Hm?”

And it takes Jean a little longer than necessary to realize the pain in his chest isn’t from a pit of stunned emotions, but from two full grown men resting on top of him.  He squirms, ignoring Eren’s lazy kisses over his face.

“I can’t _breathe_ ,” he shouts, and kicks them both off the cot without ceremony.

And if the whole thing had been two against one, Jean decides he’s definitely won this round.


End file.
